


from dawn till dusk.

by AlwaysInSonder



Series: Plance Anthology [9]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet Ending, F/M, hopefully it's coherent, plance, this was written during an insomnia episode
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-12
Updated: 2019-12-12
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:54:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21765631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlwaysInSonder/pseuds/AlwaysInSonder
Summary: "I like the beard," she whispers. He can sense a ghost of a smile in her tone and for a moment, it fills him with delight. But like a candle lit on a short, burnt wick, the flame extinguished just as it came.He doesn't know what he'll do without her and it frightens him.
Relationships: Lance/Pidge (Voltron), Lance/Pidge | Katie Holt
Series: Plance Anthology [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1262111
Comments: 6
Kudos: 45





	from dawn till dusk.

It takes him approximately eight minutes to get out of bed. It's a slow, laborious process that begins with him sullenly staring at his ceiling for five of them, peeling his back off his mattress for two and then slowly but surely pulling his legs to the side of his bed. 

It's an improvement, he thinks. There used to be a day where he would not leave the comforting warmth of his sheets at all. 

His room is still a mess, but an organized one. His dirty laundry formed a pile in one corner. His laundered clothes in a pile in his desk. Her clothes carefully packed in boxes by his door. It's strange to think that he is the tidier one of them. 

His eyes turn to his clock and bright red lights show him that he's woken before the sunrise. Another improvement. 

In the dim fluorescent light of his bathroom, Lance stares at his reflection. He scratches his cheek, wincing at the density of the stubble. It hardly qualifies as stubble now and fully fell under beard territory. He brushes his teeth and splashes cold water on his face till his eyes did not look quite as swollen.

He pulls on pants, a hoodie and his sneakers and makes his way to his kitchen. It's suspiciously clean, and sure enough, there is a fresh stack of tupperware in his fridge, full of dishes from his childhood. He stares blankly at matching mugs, one green, the other blue, sitting idly on the top shelf. He grabs the blue mug, pours in an obscene amount of sugar and dumps in a packet of instant coffee. As he waits for his kettle to whistle, he stares out the window with a sigh.

The sky was just beginning to lighten. If he jogged, he might see her just before sunrise.

* * *

The air is frigid around him, mercilessly leaching through the thin hoodie and rapidly cooling his clammy skin. His morning coffee did scant to keep him warm, but he feels the need to continue his routine. He can't miss her this time. 

He reaches the spot in the nick of time, the gravel crunching under his feet softening as his feet sinks into soft dunes of sand. He notes with reserved elation that his time has improved. A quick glance to his watch shows he's averaging six minutes a mile, not quite his peak, but a vast improvement since his self-imposed exile.

He props himself on the fence surrounding the secluded beach, looking out to the expanse of ocean. There isn't another soul in sight, and he's glad. The wind whips his skin and tears form to soothe his drying eyes. When he sniffles, he's unsure if it is mere congestion. 

He perks up as the first rays of the sun kissed the sky. He takes several breaths and forces himself to still. He closes his eyes and counts to three. 

He opens them to her voice. 

"Didn't think you'd be here again." His heart _accelerates_. Lance gulps as her presence looms over his shoulder. He turns his head and watches her perch herself next to him. She's in her Garrison uniform, the one she wears on her way to work everyday. "You're going to be late for work."

His dependency was evident, but he needed to see her just one more time. "I've taken a sabbatical,'' he mumbles, unable to look in the eye just yet.

She pauses at his answer and blinks. "You can _do_ that?" 

He shrugs and looks down at his hands. "It helps when you know the commander. He was very understanding."

Pidge shakes her head and stretches her legs out before her. She's silent, but Lance knows her mind is racing; just bursting with all the things she wanted to say to him.

"I kept your mug." It is an odd thing to bring up, but it beats the silence. He just wants to hear her voice. "Hope you don't mind." 

"Of course not," she sighs, looking out to the sunrise. Her hand briefly skims over his knuckles and is cool to the touch. "Man, I miss this view." 

"You don't have to miss it," he bites his tongue as soon as the words escape. He'd been doing so well too. Lance doesn't dare glance her way; she's looking at him with pity, he knows.

A pensive silence follows and it's awkward. He hates awkward. It doesn't suit them. "We've talked about this…" Pidge runs a hand through her short hair, and he resists the urge to comb it back. To feel the soft strands between his fingers, to run his fingers against her scalp, to hear her sigh in pleasure. "It's time I go, Lance." 

Her voice is softer, as gentle as the time she'd first said 'I love you'. A brief image of the memory flashes in his mind, and he doesn't know if it's corny or endearing that it had happened on the very spot they stood upon. He decides it's both. He licks his lips and nods slowly. She's right. It was time. 

"I like the beard," she whispers. He can sense a ghost of a smile in her tone and for a moment, it fills him with delight. But like a candle lit on a short, burnt wick, the flame extinguished just as it came. 

He doesn't know what he'll do without her and it frightens him. 

The sun is seconds away from escaping the horizon and he senses her coming closer. He looks her in the eye and dreads it. But he knew it was time.

"Will you see me at sunset?" Her eyes are focused entirely on him, not allowing a brief respite. She needs an answer _now_.

He gulps, staring down at his hands. She looks at him in a way that unsettled him. It is as if she _knows_ what goes through his head - and all things considered, of course she does - but it is no less confronting. He needs her, but he had made his promise to her.

"...no?" He can almost sense the lift in her eyebrow and he clears his throat, his vision swimming. His voice is surer this time, though it comes out croaked. "No. I think I'm ready. To enjoy it alone."

This time, he lifts his eyes and the gentle smile she gives him eases the pain in his heart just the slightest. Her hand cups his cheek and she leans forward to kiss him. Her lips are like a whisper against his and her kiss is softer than the cool breeze that filters through his hair. 

"Good," she sighs and stands up, stretching her limbs. "And Lance, will you promise me one thing?"

"Anything."

She gestures to the sunrise, now fully lifted from the horizon and the ocean glitters in golds and pinks. "One day, you'll share this with someone else?" The insistent tone she uses - _classically_ Pidge - makes it sound more of a statement than a suggestion. " _Promise_ me." 

"I- I promise!"

She nods slowly, tears filling her eyes and he notes how they don't glow the brilliant amber they do in the sunlight. A stark, but much needed reminder.

"...Go," he reluctantly urges. The pull in his heart is _immense_ , but he needs to endure. For her sake, for his sake. He takes in several shaky breaths, the sand beneath his shoes crunching as he stood.

A blink, and she's gone. 

* * *

The morning air is crisp, but it invigorates it him. He feels his cheeks burn with warmth as he finally slows his jog to a halt, gravel turning to sand. He's at the same place again, two months since his last visit, but this time, he arrives with a bright smile. 

He stretches his legs as he does, looking out to the horizon as the sun begins its gentle dip into the horizon. The sky is a spectacularly bright watercolor; yellows, pinks and a vibrant orange rivalled only by the massive star in the distance. 

"Buddy, you _know_ I hate running," Hunk pants as he nearly collapses next to him. His friend clings to the fence, gasping for air as he wipes the sweat off his brow. "Couldn't we just… walk here?" 

Wordlessly, he tilts his friend's head towards the sea. 

"Wha- oh..."

For several moments, they watch in hushed silence, and for several moments, Lance holds his breath. He closes his eyes just as the sun dips out of view, counts to three, and opens them. He sees Hunk, and only Hunk. He's not sure what he feels at the moment. Relief? Sadness? It's a light sort of feeling he can only describe...as acceptance. It's a daunting, harrowing sensation at first, but it smooths over and settles, filling him with peace. 

Hunk's face always gives him away, and now it betrays the grief in his eyes. He forgets sometimes, that Pidge wasn't just _his_.

"She's proud of you," Hunk takes a shaky breath, resting a warm hand on his shoulder. It's strong and firm, and _real_. "I'm more than sure."

Lance doesn't meet his eyes, and just nods. The heaviness in his heart still pulls in his chest, but it's getting lighter and lighter with each day. 

He had since moved out of their apartment, a decision made the last time he'd seen her. He's made a promise to move on, and he was fully committed to keeping it for her. 

The sun reigns over the ocean, casting a beautiful amber glow down on the waters. It's a shade of amber he knows and adores. He knows she's in a happier place, and for that, he is content.

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Rosie for the amazing beta work!


End file.
